Prom 35: Jansons BRSO Mahler Symphony No. 2

Mariss
Jansons can always be relied on to give a distinctive performance, and that’s
exactly what the Resurrection Symphony got tonight. Mahler isn’t central to
Jansons’ repertoire, he’s more closely associated with the later generations,
Strauss and Shostakovich, who took Mahler’s soundworld and refined it to create
music of equal power but greater sophistication. We more often hear Mahler
presented by younger and more impetuous conductors, who vie with each other to conjure
more intensity, bigger shocks and greater contrasts. Jansons is not in that
business; he’s more interested in balance, coherency and continuity. The Resurrection
Symphony, as it turns out, appreciates this sort of treatment, which makes
everything in it sound narrative and interconnected. Some of Mahler’s
radicalism is lost in the process, but the result is a work that sounds more
symphonic in every sense.

Rather
than push the cellos and basses to the limit of their capabilities in the
opening, Jansons instead took a steady pace, and the payoff was a remarkable
unity of ensemble in these opening phrases. Even if he doesn’t take the tempos
to extremes, he still insists on the full dynamic contrasts that Mahler writes
into the score, and that maintains the drama at this slower pace. As the first
movement progressed, it became clear that Jansons was determined to find
continuity between each successive passage. All the phrases were elegantly
shaped, and the tempos were always fluid, but there were no sudden gear
changes, and every new idea was presented as if it were the inevitable
consequence of what we had just heard. In general, the strings had the upper
hand over the winds and percussion, and there was some surprisingly scrappy
playing at times from the back of the stage. But the unity of intent mattered
more, and it was clear throughout that every player and singer was on Jansons’
interpretive wavelength.

The
sophistication of Jansons’ reading was most evident in the second and third
movements. He drew a weighty tone from the strings at the start of the second,
too weighty really, and too urbane – there was never any suggestion of a rustic
dance here. The passage where the strings play their instruments like guitars
was gamely done though, and was one of the many episodes here that showed
Jansons’ lighter side. The third movement acted as a transition towards the
finale, bringing the first hints of the violence that would be unleash later
on. The restraint early on impressively contrasted the wilder climaxes towards
the end of the movement, the slight inaccuracies in the woodwind playing almost
seemed deliberate (were they?) in some of these outbursts, and particularly effective
were the irregular piccolo trills, scribbled crudely across the top of the
tuttis.

Urlicht introduced mezzo
Gerhild Romberger, an ideal singer for the part. Her voice is throaty and full
of dark colours, but her pronunciation impeccable, enabling her to clearly
transmit each syllable across the hall. The trumpet chorale that answers her at
the start of the movement was played by the off-stage band, a curious diversion
from the score, but not an overly distracting one.

From
the start of the finale it was clear that this is what Jansons had been
building up to, and his restraint, especially in the second and third
movements, was now revealed to be part of a scheme for delineating the work’s
architecture. All of the ‘death’ music was presented with searing intensity,
and with some excellent playing (finally), especially from the brass. The sense
of continuity and narrative was still very much to the fore, though, and
Jansons made every effort to keep a sense of flow going in each transition and
tempo shift. He was going against the spirit of the music really, as most of it
here is about shocks, sudden changes of mood and sudden revelations.
Fortunately, when we got to the Resurrection proper, with the entry of the
choir, Mahler finally got on to Jansons’ wavelength. The WDR and BRSO choruses
sang wonderfully, and those pianissimo
entries were perfectly handled, with Jansons holding the ensemble in the palm
of his hand; the choir only breathed when he let them, and the audience too.
Soprano Genia Kühmeier is not the equal of Romberger, but her tone is purer and
less complex, making it a good complement in their brief duets towards the end.

The
finale was impressive, particularly for the tonal control that the orchestra
was able to maintain, even at the very loudest dynamics. Like many German
ensembles, the BRSO plays to some arcane pitch standard (443 Hz probably),
which prevented them from using the resolutely 440 Albert Hall organ. The
electric one they brought along did the job, but it wasn’t the same. More of a
disappointment in these closing passages was the acoustic, which swallowed up
most of the sound, deflating what would no doubt have otherwise been an
overwhelming experience.

But
such is the way of the Proms, and even in its problematic venue, the season is
to be congratulated for bringing us this and so many other world class
performances. Jansons’ Mahler, at least on this hearing, isn’t the visceral and
immediate musical experience that you can expect from Salonen say, or Dudamel,
or even Jonathan Nott. It’s more considered and more refined. Jansons brings
out dimensions of the music that his younger colleagues overlook, not least its
innate sense of symphonic coherency. Most just take that for granted, but
Jansons is intent on showing us exactly how this music works.

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Gavin Dixon is a writer, journalist, editor and blogger specialising in classical music. He writes reviews and articles for a number of publications and websites. Gavin has a PhD on the Symphonies of Alfred Schnittke and is currently a Visiting Research Fellow at Goldsmiths, University of London. He is also a member of the editorial team behind the ‘Alfred Schnittke Collected Works’ edition, which recently began publication in St Petersburg. More information on Gavin’s writing activities can be found at his website: www.gavindixon.info